Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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There’s something living inside. In the light it’s hidden, but at night it claws with rage at the past, shredding weeks and months happily spent and gnashing a celebrated history into a tattered recollection of misery. To read this now is to believe there was never kindness, never a kiss behind the ear, an embrace from behind, a delicate whisper in the night of affections that swaddled more than any quilt against the chill of this world. Elation the victim, anger murders indiscriminately every naked hope that once writhed in the ecstasy of predictability, security, comfort. Bleaching the color away, the delicate exposure of years turns sun faded, the details lost like buckshot loosed on a picnic table, skittering, rolling fast into the gaps between support, falling into abyssal darkness without possibility of return. The taken for granted flee, carrion reanimated and pulling spilled, rotting entrails back inside hollowed aspects, lurching across the abandoned road of promise; betrayed by the folly of greedy desire. Absent faith, the victor stumbles. The air has grown desert night cold, sinuses burning in the dry kill of memory without joy. Somewhere there’s truth, a slice of consciousness tucked away in the dense underbrush of yesterday that will again call out at dawn like morning bird song after interminable twilight. That’s a long way off, though. And the parasitic nature of fury feeds on bliss, shitting out black, digested hate now stuffed in each space between, each pore of once-joined skin now eviscerated by an abhorrent navigation of hard times; bleeding thick sorrow and choking on nostalgia. A union severed, the truth becomes the most tragic casualty; an innocent child slaughtered by avarice and haste. Maybe the toxins sublimate pain. Maybe the enhanced rot of now will merge experience into the fecund soil of tomorrow, sprouts seeking fresh light after the purgatory of renewal. Or maybe death awaits, one chance too many blown. One heart too hollow a seed to bloom again. (at The Spaces Between)

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